A Witness To A Vivacious Dying-Svedok Č İlog Umiranja
'a glaukopis
Of an owl
And an eagle
Flies around the Earth'
Marina Adamovic
Once a dead stone
Speaks up
The living language of birds
And sagacity tumbles
Over a winged glaukopis
The walls of all the knowledge
Will fall down into something
More difficult than death
There will remain a writing
A witness to a vivacious dying
Ispired by the poem 'Except for a vivacious dying' by the poetess Marina Adamovic, quotation taken from the same poem.
‘glaukopis
sove
i
orla
obleć e Zemlju’
Marina Adamović
kad mrtav kamen
progovori
živim jezikom ptica
i mudrost se spotakne
o krilati glaukopis
u nešto teže od smrti srušić e se
zidovi sveg znanja
ostać e tek natpis
svedok č ilog umiranja
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Marina Tears
marina she sat by the window
salt tasting tears rolling down down down
touching trembling lips
why did you cry marina
why did you cry
marina she had those hands of sorrow
spasm killed self handshake made of dust
squatted in her lap
what did you touch marina
what did you touch
marina she had those ashen hair plaits
leaking down her back like snakes
biting her spine
what did you do marina
what did you
marina she cried
why did i die
why did i die
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Marina Del Ray
We said goodbye
In marina del rey
I had a good time
Was the last thing I heard her say
As I walked away
And on this plane back to tennessee
My mind comes across her memory
And yesterday
In marina del rey
Chorus:
On a hidden beach under a golden sun
She spread a blanket
That we laid down on and loved the world away
In marina del rey
And as we looked into each others eyes
We found our bodys lost in paradise
Like castaways
In marina del rey
Like the ocean tides
High and lows
Love sometimes comes and goes away
In marina del rey
And as this plane is touching down
Tears touch my eyes for I have found
My heart has stayed
In marina del rey
Chorus
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Marina Del Rey
We said goodbye
In Marina Del Rey
"I had a good time"
Was the last thing I heard her say
As I walked away
And on this plane back to Tennessee
My mind comes across her memory
And yesterday
In Marina Del Rey
Chorus:
On a hidden beach under a golden sun
She spread a blanket
That we laid down on and loved the world away
In Marina Del Rey
And as we looked into each other's eyes
We found our body's lost in paradise
Like castaways
In Marina Del Rey
Like the ocean tides
High and lows
Love sometimes comes and goes away
In Marina Del Rey
And as this plane is touching down
Tears touch my eyes for I have found
My heart has stayed
In Marina Del Rey
Chorus
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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at Marina Beach, Chennai..
silvery sands of marina,
glitter under the moon light,
shine under the sun light.
The eagerness in waves,
touch her quite often,
unconditionally, unopposed.
The cool breeze that flows
through the sultry body,
makes the human possessed.
beautiful shores of intelligent marina,
not for sale and not for bare and bars,
though violent waves hurt her sometimes.
Thousands of hearts united,
on the fine sands of Marina, but
thousands buried underneath, unnoticed.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Is Just A Poem
a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem
a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about
anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's
poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be
a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice
thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist
on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,
need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem
it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so
this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Marina Sunday
Sunday at the Marina
Water in the marina, clear as diesel
fish swimming close to surface
in peace of seagulls,
which know they stink of human
waste.
This is not the fish that
will feed the five thousand.
A child strews bread crumbs into the water,
ignored by the fishes.
Seagulls' shrieks and fall from the sky.
A man drops a glass of gin & tonic, on
the deck of yacht,
claws at his chest.
Ambulance and a nervous doctor
tells him not to smoke cigars
too late.
Young widow,
I hope she sells the bloody yacht.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Absolutley Nothing To Do
Something but Nothing to Do
Lazy Day Nobody Around
Feeling Crazy vivacious
Just Sitting around
Know one to talk to
Think Meaningless Shit
This lazy vivacious day
What do I do with it
Have so much to do and a lot of time
Crazy vivacious can't start the mind
Don't believe in nothing
Nothing lasts forever
Yet nothing last forever
If needed twinkle alone
Until vivacious nothing drifts away.
poem by Kelly Zender
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Little Poem Story
A little poem telling a story about the poetess who were falling in love
A little poem smiled
She knew that the poetess was writting love words shyly
One..Two..Three.....Seven.....a lot of love words she wrote
They were beatiful, they were mysterious
A little poem felt the poetess’s emotion
The poetess was loving an awesome man deeply
A man who had filled in her absolute majority life
Like a candle in the dark., he lighted the poetess’s days
A little poem knew the poetess’s feeling
And the awesome man had to knew too
A little poem waited for that special day
One..Two..Three.....Seven...a lot of days passed
But a little poem never leafted from her place
The poetess never allowed a little poem to talked to the awesome man
The poetess leafted a little poem in her drawer
The poetess leafted her love words and nobody knew
A little poem had the blues
Love is about braveness
Love will become love when it expressed
“May be the poetess didn’t know about it”, she thought.
poem by Deasy Anggraeni
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Marina Gipps
Born into an odd name I never wanted
for it would not cheerlead me
into stardom according to numerologists
and Chicago Bears fans
who tortured me throughout my youth.
So I won't have a tombstone
to float over in the afterlife
attempting to erase the evidence.
I will only have this poem
which is a testimony of my disgrace.
poem by Marina Gipps
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Marina who knew the wisdom of crying
Last night she shed a tear for me
Lost in her pond Love’s broken bonds
Lost in her sight Love’s misty nights
Lost in her eyes Marina broken I
Stood lost in her tears though I didn’t cry
For I am a lady who’s strong
I place my tears among
Deep skies of an eternal blue
Sorry Marina- I cannot cry for you
Dec 13th 2011.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Much Like Me
Much like me, you make your way forward,
Walking with downturned eyes.
Well, I too kept mine lowered.
Passer-by, stop here, please.
Read, when you've picked your nosegay
Of henbane and poppy flowers,
That I was once called Marina,
And discover how old I was.
Don't think that there's any grave here,
Or that I'll come and throw you out ...
I myself was too much given
To laughing when one ought not.
The blood hurtled to my complexion,
My curls wound in flourishes ...
I was, passer-by, I existed!
Passer-by, stop here, please.
And take, pluck a stem of wildness,
The fruit that comes with its fall --
It's true that graveyard strawberries
Are the biggest and sweetest of all.
All I care is that you don't stand there,
Dolefully hanging your head.
Easily about me remember,
Easily about me forget.
How rays of pure light suffuse you!
A golden dust wraps you round ...
And don't let it confuse you,
My voice from under the ground.
poem by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You walk, and look like me
You walk, and look like me,
Your eyes directed down.
I also used to lower mine!
Hey you, passer by, stop!
Read-when you've gathered
A bouquet of buttercups and poppies,
That I was called Marina
And how old I was.
Don't think that this is a grave,
That I will appear,scary...
I myself loved too much
To laugh, when I shouldn't have!
And the blood would come to my face
And my hair was curly...
You passer by, I also was!
You passer by, stop!
Break yourself off a wild stem
And after it a berry,-
No wild strawberry is larger or sweeter
Than one from a graveyard.
Only don't stand gloomily,
Dropping your head on your chest,
Think about me easily,
As easily then forget!
How the sun's ray shines upon you!
You're all covered in golden dust...
-Don't let it disturb you,
My voice from underground.
poem by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Need A Poem More Than A Poem Needs Me
I NEED A POEM MORE THAN A POEM NEEDS ME
I need a poem more than a poem needs me.
I need a poem because I have no poem within me
I am lost
Dead inside
Needing a poem
Needing anything
These lines trying to be a poem
Tell me I can restore myself to being human
By writing a poem.
I do not know if it is much of a poem
But I am somewhat better now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Only Poem Is The Poem/ At The Moment Of Its Writing
THE ONLY POEM IS THE POEM
The only poem is the poem
At the moment of its writing
The poem being lived now
The poem I am trying to make
The poem of these lines.
The only poem now is this one-
And this poem is so small and so self- reflexive
That it is not much of a poem at all.
The only poem is not much of a poem at all
This one
And me now? .
But what about everything else I have not done?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Poem
THIS POEM
This poem
This first poem
This last poem
This poem that invented Poetry
This one and only one poem
This fictional poem
This ideal poem
This perfect poem
This would – be holy poem
This unreal poem
This poem which is not a poem
This poem which is the essence of all poetry
This poem
And that poem
And my poem
And your poem
And all poems
Poem poem poem poem poem
This poem
Mine and yours
This one small poem of so so many
And not such a good poem at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem That Speaks Of Nothing
The poem that speaks of nothing
Tells of nothing convoluted at all.
It has no need of metering,
Or of emotions that rise and fall.
The poem that has no content
Lacks subject matter to cover.
So forget the flowers that you sent
To your faithful lover.
The poem devoid of plot
Has no farfetched tale to tell.
There’s no mention of battles fought
Against the very spawn of Hell.
The poem in absence of metaphors
Is not written by someone who will
Tell of reposing forevermore
Or of running naked through the hill.
The poem that speaks of nothing
Dares not mention the roaring sea.
And the poem that speaks of nothing
That is the poem for me.
(veritas h.s.2005)
poem by William Mcgehee
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To Marina After Giving Birth To A Baby Girl
now you are complete
your husband and yourself
and baby marina
that you named maria after
your great grandmother,
your world is a circle closed
and we cannot get in there anymore
lest we are nothing
but planets losing our own
orbits
clashing with the privacy of
your own galaxy
do not be disturbed
as we close our own circles too
alone by ourselves
we become stars
distant stars in the skies
from your room
as you begin to sing the
lullaby
we are different
our glitters dim like dying lights
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem After Poem After Poem
POEM AFTER POEM AFTER POEM
POEM AFTER POEM AFTER POEM
Poem after poem after poem
But a poem is not the way out.
Money is depleting
Soon I’ll be without.
How will I manage to live then
What will become of us all?
To write a poem is to do nothing
When the writing is on the wall.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The memory is like a cat scratching my heart.
quote by Marina Oswald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poem.
I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,
I like the story.
poem by Aisha Patterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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